You Left Us
by Sable Supernova
Summary: When someone has drawn their last breath, what happens to those left behind? How do they begin to move on with their lives? Everyone's grief is different, but those differences make the emotions no less profound. Collection. Mainly canon, some AUs.
1. Dear Fred

_A/N: Fred and George._

_Written for The Vocabulary Challenge on HPFC, where I was given the following:_

_Lunar mamomie, n. – the yearning to unsee the illusion of the man in the moon, that silly tilt of the expression, maw agape and eyes akimbo, silently screaming across the empty miles that you are trapped inside yourself and that objectivity is a fantasy of escape from a world of shockingly few ingredients mushed together like yam chili._

_I hope you enjoy._

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Dear Fred,

I remember when we were six and you told me you were going to build a ladder long enough to reach the moon one day. I think you said it at least once an hour for about a week, and by the end, I almost believed it was possible. I mean, we were six, and we hadn't realised there were things magic couldn't do yet.

We were seven when you tried to convince me someone had already done it. You tried to say that the face we could see was that of the man who tried it, once. According to you, he realised that it was too far, but he'd realised too late and that as his heart beat for the last time, the image of his face contorted into a scream of anguish was scarred onto the surface of the moon forever, to serve as a warning to all those on Earth.

I think you just wanted to believe in the possibility that there was more than yourself and what you knew. The moon, so far away, is the perfect location for a sweet escape, isn't it? It's far enough away, even, that you might even be able to stand there and look down upon the large ball beneath you and see how infinitely small we are. When you realise how small a person is, it's easier to be impartial towards them. They're easier not to hate; easier not to love. They're just stardust and water, really, and surprisingly little else.

We always tried to be like water, didn't we? We were flexible, innovative, forming our own path through the landscape, with a fire in us that spurred us on. Now, you're the earth beneath my feet, and I'm flying, floating between one and the other; between the inside and the out; between the dream and reality.

I wish now that I could forget the wide eyes and agape mouth of that face. It reminds me too much of you. It's bad enough that I can't even face going our shop, Fred, but I can't even look at the bloody moon. Are you up there? Is that it? It would be comforting to think so. Or it might be a horrible thought. I don't know. All I know is that you're not here anymore, Fred. You aren't here and I'm looking for you all the time and you're in everything I do, and say, and see, and I'm trying to avoid you like the plague every Goddamned second and where are you, Fred?

Did you finally do it? Did you build your ladder? The face scorched into the side of the moon, is that yours, now? That would be a beautifully sad story, wouldn't it? Instead… instead I'm left with the truth.

The truth burns through my skull and lands like tar in my belly. It makes sleeping hard and eating harder. The truth is what hurts, Fred, and I wish….

With all my heart, I wish I could unsee that anguish on that face etched into the side of the moon.

Forever I'll be,

Your other half,

George


	2. Nightmares

**Nightmares**

The house was silent as he tossed and turned, eyes wide and sore as they stared blankly into the darkness.

Everyone had been grieving at first. The war had left nothing but destruction and devastation in its wake. He was often part of a group in the kitchen at three in the morning looking for water. It took a few months, but now it was only him. He took a glass to bed with him these days to avoid waking anyone up.

The nightmares left him desperate to scream but frozen. The paralysis that took over him was more terrifying than anything he had faced before.

The only thing he wished for now was dreamless sleep.

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**AN: Written for the May Event at Hogwarts for the prompt 'dreamless'. At first, it was written with George in mind, and then it shifted to Harry. In the end, I decided to leave it ambiguous. I hope you enjoyed :)**

**Words: 116**


	3. Eulogy

Written for the May Event at Hogwarts for the prompt: always.

Words: 112

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**Eulogy**

The funeral was a sombre affair, but for a few of the attendees, it didn't seem real. There were too many people, and many of them had never even met Harry. The cameras were there, too, the reporters. They couldn't let them have this day.

Draco was there near the front, but he didn't feel welcome. Over the years he'd come to realise how alike he and Harry were.

Hermione stood alone, tears rolling silently down her cheeks.

Ginny was by her children in the front row, staring at the coffin with a heart that felt empty.

They didn't know it, but all three of them were thinking the same thing: always.


	4. The Fantasy

**AN: Written for the Hogwarts May Event, for the prompt: fantasy.**

**Words: 117**

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**The Fantasy**

He tipped the vial back, allowing the trickle to hit the back of his throat. He closed his eyes as the Elixir Somniorum took effect. Turning to the space beside him, he opened them once more.

A teenage boy sat beside the man, grinning.

"Fred," he said, mirroring his brother's smile. George's hair had begun to grey around his temples as lines weaved creases around his eyes. George just sat, stared and smiled.

Fred's image began to fade. George's face dropped.

"Fred. Fred! Please! Stay! Fred. Fred…" he begged.

But Fred was gone.

As wracking sobs took over the man's frame, he squeezed his eyes tight shut against the sicking truth: it was nothing more than fantasy.


	5. Not Today

Written for Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Mirabella Plunkett - Write about a relationship between a witch or a wizard and another species.

Words: 186

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**Not Today**

"Remus, have you seen this?" Tonks asked, pouring over an article in the Daily Prophet.

"Do I want to?" Remus replied with a sigh, knowing what the Daily Prophet's reporting was like these days. They claimed to tell the truth, and Remus supposed there were occasionally facts hidden in the dribbles they passed off as journalism.

"It's about Sirius. They've actually written him an obituary."

If Tonks hadn't been looking at the article, she'd have seen him stiffen, his shoulders rising slightly as his face paled.

"That's a no, then," he said, his voice suddenly terse and restrained.

For a man who'd spent a lot of time recently shielding his emotions, he sure picked the best times to reveal them.

Tonks sighed, her resignation at distinct odds with her bubble gum pink hair. "They've admitted his innocence. They say Aurors are searching for Peter. It's something, Remus."

"Yeah, sure it is. Shame he's dead."

Tonks threw the newspaper onto the table and turned away from him. Sometimes, she was able to break through his walls. Sometimes, they had real conversations, about things that mattered.

Not today.


	6. The News

Written for:  
Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Gellert Grindelwald - Write about Gellert Grindelwald  
200 Characters in 200 Days: Gellert Grindelwald  
405 words

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**The News**

He didn't get much news through. He didn't get much of anything through, really, except for the cold and bitter wind, and an hour or so of sunlight in the late morning. They occasionally brought him food, but it was never three meals a day, not anymore. They'd fed him enough when they'd first imprisoned him, but over time, it began to wear off. Gellert wondered if they'd begun to forget about him.

He wouldn't blame them, if they had. He often wished he could forget about himself, shed his old skin like it was a curse and be born anew, with a bright future still laid out ahead of him.

They brought him news today. They didn't give him any details, and they'd seemed uncertain in the telling, like they weren't sure why they were giving him the news, or what his reaction would be, only that it was important he knew. Gellert's history, he knew, had long been reduced to folklore and myth in the eyes of these young men.

But he was grateful they'd told him, all the same.

Albus was dead.

Albus, the only man believed able to match Gellert; who he'd fought with on a cold moor in the most infamous duel of the 20th Century to date; who'd won. Albus, the school teacher; the mentor; the man desperate to make amends for his own lack of sight as a young man, ready to instil a sense of direction into the hearts of those that were like he himself had been. Albus, the bright-eyed youth with a brilliant mind and big ideas; the boy with the responses to Gellert's unanswered questions; the boy with questions only Gellert had ever been able to answer. Albus, the friend.

The men who gave him the news only really knew of the duel.

Gellert remembered the look of anguish on Albus' face as he fell to his knees by the body of his sister, Ariana. Gellert knew what Albus didn't want to know, and chose never to tell. In that moment, he saw the human cost of conflict, and felt remorse. It was a feeling he'd been trying to let go of ever since.

It was the reason he spared Gregorovitch.

But he knew that Albus, too, had always harboured remorse.

He looked out through the bars of his cell into the darkness of the northern evening.

"Did you ever forgive yourself, old friend?"


	7. Forgot to Remember You

**Written for:**  
**Chocolate Frogs Cards Challenge:** Hester Starkey - Incorporate a lunar event.  
**Writing Bingo:** Metamorphagus  
**Gringotts Prompt Bank:** Title: Forgot to Remember You, 2."A diamond in the rough." *NEW*, , Lover, Undo, Pain, Entry, ,  
**AN:** So, for this one, I took on the headcanon that when Teddy writes in his journal or diary, he writes to his parents, because it's the only way he has of feeling close to them, and like they can help him get through things. So this is a diary entry, even though it's written like a letter. Also, Dear Diary is overdone.  
**Words:** 494

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**Forgot to Remember You**

Hey Dad,

So, I wanted to write even though it's long past midnight, because there was a full moon tonight. Do you remember when I used to just know when the full moon was? When I kept track of the cycle like the says of the week, like it was useful and ordinary? When I actually respected you.

Well, tonight, it came as a surprise. I was out in the grounds, by the edge of the forest, when I looked up and saw it. I forgot to remember you.

I don't know what to say except that I'm sorry.

I didn't just forget you, my parents, I forgot everything that you both stood for. Everything I always tried to believe.

I didn't mean to hurt Vic. I know now that I was being an idiot, and all it took was a full moon to realise it. Vic and me were on a break, I know. We were going through a rough patch, and she wanted some space, and I used it as an excuse. It wasn't an excuse. I'll bet you weren't looking down on me smiling tonight.

I should have left Emily alone. Just because she came after me doesn't mean it was a good idea. I mean, we didn't really do anything, we were just messing around, and she's one hell of a lover - it confused me! And...

And there I go with the excuses again.

Everything's damaged now. Between me and Emily, and as soon as Vic finds out (which won't take long in this place), everything between me and Vic. There's no excuse for that, and I need to stop looking for one.

You know, Dad, everyone who knew you calls you a diamond in the rough these days, as if that's some kind of complement. I never saw it. I saw it as a kind of disappointment, a sorrowful line, for a long time. It meant you could have been something, it meant you were close - but you never fully realised it. You died full of potential. That's what they say.

I hated it for a long time. But recently, I've come to realise... I took after you, didn't I?

I keep reaching for my dreams like they're stars in the sky coming down to greet my fingertips, and the I fuck it up. But, dad, I promise you, one day I'll make it. One day, I'll reach out and I won't break anything; I won't cause anyone else any pain; I won't stumble and fall. I'll do what you never did, Dad, and everyone who tells me I walk like you with pride and sadness on their faces will say the best of you lived on in me.

I've just got to figure out how to fix this mess I'm in first, and then I'll be on the right track. For good.

You deserve it, dad. You deserve a son to be proud of.

All my best,

Teddy


	8. Gardening

**Written for:**  
**February Event at Hogwarts:** (quote) "My six word love story: I can't imagine life without you." and (word) lovesick  
**200 Characters in 200 Days:** Xenophilius Lovegood  
**If You Dare Challenge:** 520\. Lost Life  
**Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Benjy Fenwick - Write about someone/something missing and never found.  
**Myths and Legends Classroom at Hogwarts:** Athena - Write about a Ravenclaw.  
**Gringotts Prompt Bank: **"The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out, you left me in the dark." - _Cosmic Love, Florence and the Machine, _"Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction." - _Antoine de Saint-Exupery, _"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell." - _Edna St. Vincent Millay _and "I've fallen in love many times... always with you." - _Unknown  
_**Words:** 746

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**Gardening**

Xenophilius patted down the earth, straightening the surface around the stem of the plant, before looking back to admire his handiwork. Four dirigible plum plants now stood proud along the wall of the house, spaced evenly. They were still young, and not yet flowering, but once they established themselves, they'd come back year after year, blossoming and bearing fruit. He looked up at Pandora and smiled, briefly glancing behind her at the falling sun. She picked up the watering can and stood beside him, nurturing the plants in their new home.

It had been a long Sunday of gardening, but the Lovegoods could now say they're front yard was home to a fine collection of Gurdyroot and Dirigible Plums, not to mention the Snargaluffs and other potions ingredients. They were proud of all they had achieved, and the foundations they had laid for their future.

"Well, that's the hard work over and done with for the next few years," Pandora commented with a smile.

"Don't worry, you'll find something else," Xenophilius teased, knowing his wife's penchant for obsessive hard work. She'd find something that interested her and puzzle over it for months, scrutinizing every detail until she was satisfied.

The couple turned their backs on the dirigible plums together and found themselves looking out over the rolling green hills as they walked around the house to the front steps.

"It really is beautiful here, isn't it?" Pandora asked, taking in the view.

"I hope we never tire of the scenery," Xenophilius replied. He reached out for her hand, taking it in his, tracing his thumb over the detailing on her wedding band. A small engraving of a dirigible plum, upright on its vine, was cast with an amber stone. In loving each other, they believed they'd opened their minds to the extraordinariness in each other.

.o0o.

Xenophilius was in his bedroom, turning over piles of parchment and clutter, muttering the word lost over and over again. Luna was at school, so he was in the house by himself, panicking frantically.

He'd been searching for most of the day, turning the house upside down in his effort to find the item. He knew it was pointless, that he wouldn't find it, but he had to look. He had to do something.

It was nearly sunset when he finally gave up, his shoulders sagging in disbelief as tears fell silently. He sat down on an old chair in the living room only to stand back up immediately, shaking his head. He crossed the room towards the front door, opened it, and stepped outside.

He circled around the house a short way until he came across the small patch of dirigible plums. There, he stopped still and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Pandora," he muttered to the wind. "I lost my life when I lost you, as you lost yours. Now, I've lost the one thing of yours I promised to always carry. The rings that bound us are as lost without each other as I am without you."

He slipped his own ring off his finger and held it in the palm of his hands like it was Merlin's own wand.

"The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out. You have left me in the dark," he continued, a private vigil as the sky turned to pinks and oranges behind him. "Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world. I find myself constantly walking around it in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you. No matter how many years pass me by, I will still love you. With or without the ring, I am still yours."

He smiled a little to himself as he considered something, through his shaking lips. "I've fallen in love many times… always with you. I read your old journal last week, the one you never finished. I fell in love with you all over again as I remembered your words. I'm still a lovesick old fool, Pandora.

"The ring has gone. Gone forever. The ring was my lifeline to you, my connection. The symbol of you I would comfort myself with on the darkest nights. Without it, I am lost in despair once again. But, my dear Pandora, your memory will live on in mine for as long as I live. I will keep you safe, and I will keep you warm inside my heart."

He sighed, taking in the dirigible plums once again, and turned away, heading back inside the house he'd built with Pandora.


	9. Remembering Goodbye

**Written for:  
****All About You Challenge:** Write about a scene that was missed out of The Half-Blood Prince. The funeral was completely skimmed over in the film, so here's a little piece on it.  
**Valentine-Making Challenge:** Write about a Hufflepuff  
**Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Bundimun - write about many people suffering depression together. Okay, so this is grief rather than actual clinical depression, but it mostly fits this prompt.  
**200 Characters in 200 Days Challenge:** Pomona Sprout  
**If You Dare Challenge:** 834\. Goodbyes  
**Words:** 682

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**Remembering Goodbye**

Oh, I remember it. I remember it alright. I remember standing there, near the front, and looking out into the crowd instead of at what was going on. I couldn't see a face that didn't have tears rolling down it. Thousands of people were there, and every single one was lost. Completely lost in their own grief. It felt like the whole Wizarding World was there to say their goodbyes.

It didn't surprise me, of course. He'd always had a way, that old man, of making you feel special. I don't really know how to explain it. Oh dear, my eyes have sprung leaks. But when he spoke to you, he was never, not ever, distracted. You'd get his full attention. And he didn't just speak to you, not Albus. Not when I knew him. He listened. Oh, yes, he listened. He would hear exactly what you had to say, and he would understand. Or, at the very least, he would try to. He would hear every word, and if you didn't quite make sense to him, he'd ask the right questions. He'd ask, and listen, and ask, and listen, until he knew exactly what you meant. There's something… there's something very special about a man like that.

My favourite memory of him… oh, it seems like such a silly little thing. My favourite memory was at dinner one night. I'd had a bad day, you see. Half my Mandrakes had died over night when it had gotten too cold, and two of my fifth year students had had a major incident with a Snargaluff. I was no doubt looking completely miserable and just plain fed up. Well, Albus, he just takes one look at me and says, 'Pomona, if all of our days were perfect, we'd forget to appreciate them.' Well, that just cheered me up to no end. Because he was right, wasn't he? And it really made me think. The bad days… they really are a sort of blessing, aren't they?

But the funeral… oh, it wasn't perfect, no. But it felt right that it wasn't. I think that would have been how Albus would have wanted it. Although some would disagree, he never saw himself as perfect, so it would have seemed fitting, for him, that his funeral wasn't. But everyone was there. Even the Merpeople were there. They sang this song at the start, and even though the language and words were completely alien to us, we all understood it, I think. It was so sad, so full of despair. The centaurs came to pay their respects, too. They sent a flurry of arrows up into the sky - oh, you should have heard the crowds! They were terrified the arrows would fall on them! They didn't, of course; they fell short. But that was their way of showing respect, just like the Merpeople's song. It was touching.

The speech fell flat. It was all facts and figures; like the kind of summary of a life you'd find in a history book. Albus wasn't a history book. He might be, one day, of course, but he wasn't then. He was a friend, an employer, a father figure, a patriarch. A brother, a teacher, a headmaster. He was everything and then some. He was something different to all of us, I think. But he wasn't a history book. You don't cry when you read a history book.

But the fire. The fire was perfect. Bright white flames rising higher and higher. Purity, rebirth, innocence. Good. Oh, they were Albus alright. As the smoke billowed up, it was like watching a soul ascend. And then where Albus had lain, there was a tomb encasing him when the fire died down. A white marble tomb.

It's been years, you know. Years have flown by. Sometimes, I still forget he's gone. That part doesn't bother me. But when you forget something like that, eventually… eventually you have to remember. And the remembering, oh. That's the worst part. It's more than a memory, you see. It's the pain that comes with it. The pain of remembering. I think there should be a word for that.


End file.
